Silent Sentinel
by jessysaurus
Summary: She was stuck, watching the lives of her comrades slip by. fran, balthier/vaan, basch/penelo.


**Silent Sentinel  
**_written by jess  
_

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They were at it again.

_Humes_. Fran sighed and shifted slightly. Rabanastre's inn had possibly the most comfortable accommodations around, save for Balfonheim, yet she, for the life of her, could not get any much needed sleep. Which proved to be quite a nuisance as Fran was, in fact, very exhausted.

It could have been because the bed was too short for her frame, as the Viera's feet tittered dangerously over the edge. It could have been because she was upset, seeing as they'd lost out on a very strong, very _expensive _mark due to _the princess's_ incessant nagging that morning. It could even have been because the _Strahl's _engines were down, and no one in the group knew when they'd be able to leave the bustling and lively city of Rabanastre.

Or, well, it could have been because her partner was the _loudest _love maker in all of Ivalice.

Yeah, that hit the mark spot on.

Not that he'd openly admit to it, or anything. The pirate did, after all, have appearances to keep. Being a screamer wasn't really something he'd like an adversary to know. Actually, it wasn't really something _Fran _was supposed to know, but well. He'd given up hiding things from his partner a long while ago.

"_Bal-thier_!" whimpered a voice, drawn out and needy.

It was about the seventh time her partner's name had been called out in sheer bliss that night. Not that Fran was counting, or anything. It was merely estimation. Just an observation, obviously.

And it wasn't as though she was fooling herself into thinking that there would be a wink of sleep tonight. She'd suddenly understood just why the others had been so quick to rest in rooms at the opposite end of Balthier's. It was rather odd, though; usually, Fran could sense her partner's motives instantly, sometimes even _before_ his mind set to work, concocting some dastardly plot to get an unsuspecting victim under the sheets with him. The desire that would latch itself to the suave pirate was near palpable, virtually unmistakable. The Viera sensed none of this in the earlier hours of the day. Aggravation, yes, and a tad bit of nausea (she'd told the stubborn pirate time and time again; _never _accept madhu from a strange Bangaa wearing a sequined dress), yet there was no desire, no mad lust for anyone he had come across in the streets.

"_Gods, Vaan. When did you get so—oh!_"

But of course, it was always that damnable thief that had Balthier wrapped around his skinny little fingers, wasn't it?

"_I've been practicing. On myself. I thought you'd like it._"

Fran abruptly had the urge to vomit, or at least gag dramatically, but she refrained when she heard the low growl that Balthier emitted.

Little known fact: Balthier was a sucker for dirty talk.

The Viera knew very well that listening so intently to the pair was wrong on many, _many _levels, but she found that she didn't quite have it in her to care. She was old enough to have the decency not to blush whenever the topic of intercourse would come up within the group (and it did, often) and she was mature enough not to giggle when Basch would, inadvertently, slip sexual innuendos into those rare times when he spoke up (Penelo would all but glare daggers at the Lady Ashe when she was reduced to the aforementioned giggle fits).

There was some loud rustling in the next room, and it appeared as though one of the two had gained the higher ground, if the triumphant, "Ha!" meant anything. More moans soon followed, and Fran idly wondered if Viera-sized earplugs had been invented yet. She really wished they had been.

The small alarm clock next to the bed flashed 3:52 a.m., though Fran didn't need the clock to know what time it was; it came naturally to her just as rising with the sun came to most Humes. Surely the two knew what time it was. Surely they would quit the mating ritual soon. _Surely_ Vaan would realize he was being obnoxiously loud and tone down the shouts a bit.

Sadly enough, Balthier and Vaan weren't the only problem Fran had to deal with on a night-to-night basis. If their little group had been, for some unknown reason, turned into canines, they'd all be in heat. _Constantly_. Most kept themselves in check during the waking hours, which thrilled the Viera to no end, yet at night, the disgusting Hume emotions reared their ugly head and, metaphorically speaking, went on the prowl. It got to the point where buying six separate rooms was simply idiotic, as more than half would be vacant come the next morning. In fact, Fran had pointed this out on more than one occasion and to no surprise, everyone had ducked their heads and mumbled excuses that went ignored.

It wasn't that Fran was a prude or anything; she didn't much mind what went on among the group, so long as it happened outside her range of hearing and sight. Oh, no. She didn't care _what _they did, exactly.

It was the _why _part that truly confused the silver-haired Viera.

Viera reproduction was rare, had always been rare, if only because the normal lifespan of a Viera was at least twice, if not thrice that of an average Hume. It wasn't needed as much and besides, when the time came for a mating, the Wood would let her children know. In Fran's entire lifetime, the Wood had not once asked any of the females to couple with a male of their kind. Some females had not even _seen_ a male Viera, as meetings between the sexes were so few and far in-between. They met when necessary. It was the way of the Wood.

So, naturally, it came as a bit of a shock when, during Fran's first years outside the Wood, she found females of all ages engaging in such _lewd _activities with the males. In _public_, no less. And, as she had begun to realize, those activities were absolutely normal for Humes. Most felt no shame, no humility, and Fran was fascinated. Very disturbed and slightly revolted, but fascinated nonetheless.

Then, well, then she met Balthier. Just from his smell, Fran knew from the very beginning that he had practiced mating with many individuals, both male and female alike. The trial run of their partnership had mostly consisted of the sky pirate trying—and failing miserably—to get Fran into his bed. It continued that way until Balthier, Ffamran at the time, suddenly decided to pour his heart and soul into pirating and ever since then, he'd miraculously behaved himself. Around Fran, anyway. His reasons for doing so were never spoken aloud, yet the Viera knew enough to leave it be. It was truly remarkable how such gratitude in the pirate's eyes could say more than words ever could.

The abrupt name change came shortly after Balthier's desperate need to reinvent himself; Ffamran was spoiled, whiny, womanizing, and juvenile. Balthier was none of these things (save the womanizing, though Fran would have liked to see the others' take on Ffamran, who had been, if it was even possible, more of a smarmy pervert as was Balthier).

Sex was something they as a dynamic duo never discussed; Balthier wasn't much for words back then, anyway. He had discovered Fran's dislike of the act early on and took to concealing his bedmates–whose number had, to the man's credit, been slowly declining as his new name steadily took infamy–from the Viera's view whenever possible. It was during those nights that she found out about his unfortunate sound problem.

Ironically enough, that same problem jolted Fran from her memories and into the next room. A guttural moan forced its way out of the older man and Vaan's followed shortly after that. One of them murmured something to the effect of, "I bet you can't top that," and Fran almost grinned at how _happy _the two of them sounded together, forgetting for the moment that she should really be seething with rage at not being able to at least _nap_, for heaven's sake.

It was the kind of happiness that she knew Viera would never have the pleasure of knowing. Humes mated for pleasure above all else, that much was certain in her eyes. Vieras mated to keep the species alive and well. She couldn't even think about mating with someone, Viera of Hume alike; the thought was simply too overbearing. Her kind was not meant to be sexually aware. They were supposed to be above it all, at a greater peace with the world. They had much more important things to accomplish in their lifetime, and finding a suitable mate to spend the rest of their long life with was not one of those things.

The sheets of Balthier's bed rustled some more, and Fran could almost see the little thief cuddling up to her partner's left side, tucking his chin into the crook of the other's neck and letting his eyes droop closed. She could almost feel the slight brush of Balthier's fingers as they made their way up Vaan's exposed back until they found purchase in silky blond locks. She could almost hear the softest sounds of breathing, as the pair's heartbeats began to slow, almost in exact sync with each other. She could almost smell the aroma the room that was mere feet from where she lay. It smelled of sweat and tears and sex and so much unbridled _love _that Fran had to pinch her oversensitive nostrils shut.

She was not meant to feel these things. She had no right to experience something that was obviously so sacred and meaningful to the two men. In that moment, Fran was disgusted with herself. Disgusted at eavesdropping on such a private moment, disgusted at the thought of how an act as meaningless and emotionless as sex could develop into something so safe and heartfelt, disgusted at how, even though Balthier and Vaan may have finished with their activities for the night, Fran could hear Penelo's soft footfalls finding their way to Basch's room down the hallway.

Most of all, Fran was disgusted because she had, for the briefest of moments, wondered what it was like to have what Balthier and Vaan had, what it was like to be touched and caressed and kissed and smiled at and ultimately _loved _so much that it hurt just to be apart from one another.

Viera weren't meant to need another's company. They were to be with the Wood until they expire. That was what Fran had been told growing up. The only comfort and care she needed would come from the Wood because the Wood loved all of her children equally.

But that was not enough.

Fran did not want the impartial love of a being that she could not grasp with her hands. She did not want to be comforted by a being that could not hold her at night, whisperings sweet nothings into her ear when the wind was biting and all hope was lost.

The Viera wanted something tangible, something to latch on to. Someone who loved her unconditionally and someone who would be there when her ice-cold mask was not enough.

This was a sin. Fran knew that well enough. She'd turned her back on the Wood ages ago, but now, lying in bed and listening to the soft sighs of a young girl surrounded by strong, loving arms, it felt as though she was a young Viera again, just about to embark on a journey away from the sheltered life she'd been forced under since birth. She was lost, unable to move forward in fear that she would fail and unable to go back because she wouldn't have been accepted anyway.

She was rooted to the spot, alone and forgotten. Balthier could only help so much; he had, after all, someone more important to attend to these days.

"_Balthier?_" Fran was sure the two had gone to sleep, but Vaan's soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

"_Yes?_"

"_Is it all right if I'm in love with you?_"

There was the smallest of chuckles.

"_I believe I have one condition._"

"_Hmm?_"

"_If you, Vaan, will allow a sky pirate who knows nothing of love to be taught how to fall for someone such as yourself._"

A slight pause, and Fran could _hear _the tears falling down the younger man's cheeks.

"_Yeah. I—I think that can be arranged, Balthier._"

Fran's heart broke.

This was not the Balthier she had partnered with. She'd never heard him like this, without that pompous, arrogant front. The two had had their own share of moments, yes, but now, without pretense, here was Balthier, _her _Balthier, speaking as though he'd just stolen the world out from under the moon's nose. She couldn't bear to listen any longer.

Fran stood up silently and slipped out of the room, careful not to make a noise as she made her way down the hallway. As soon as her body met fresh, cool air, she breathed a sigh of relief. Outside, she felt content. Even if it was only a distraction. Inns were always too stuffy, anyway. Too crowded, in her opinion.

She tried, more out of spite than anything, to hear the Wood's voice. Of course, the night was as silent as every other night she'd tried to listen to her 'mother.' Fran knew that she'd never hear the soft murmurings again. She was tainted now, with the sin of the Humes.

"Can't sleep?" muttered a voice from behind her.

"I need fresh air, is all," Fran replied stiffly. She rather disliked conversations with the Lady Ashe.

"Oh," was all she said, and Fran could hear her shuffling her feet nervously.

"You cannot find sleep, either?"

Ashe sounded startled. "Me? Oh, I, well, it's just—"

"Penelo and Captain Basch have found each other tonight, yes?" Fran knew Ashe was blushing without having to look at her.

"Yes, they have."

"They seem rather fond of each other, don't you think so?" She didn't really have a reason to be holding a conversation with Ashe, but her words were spoken anyway.

"Ah, yes…I suppose. They are almost inseparable," Ashe admitted, jealously staining each word.

Fran's ears twitched. "It is nice to see young Penelo find a mate. After she lost Vaan to Balthier, I never thought I would see a smile upon her face again."

"What about you, Fran?" Ashe blurted. "Oh! I, um, what I meant to say is—"

"Viera that have deviated from the Wood are alienated; they do not need nor seek companionship in the way the other four do." The words tasted so very familiar in Fran's mouth.

"But you do not get lonely?" Lady Ashe was very brash tonight, it seemed. Fran silently wondered if Balthier had slipped some of his poisoned madhu into her drink at the Sandsea.

"Loneliness is for the weak. We ostracized Viera learn early on that independency is crucial for survival. We do not get entangled in the affections of others."

"Then why did you partner with Balthier?"

Fran sighed. The princess was toying with her patience.

"It is not something I expect a Hume to understand," she answered in a slightly snide tone. "It happened long ago. The reason I partnered with him is very different than the reason I stay with him now."

Ashe shifted and crossed her arms. "Why do you never let anyone in? We are not exactly strangers, you know. You can talk to me if you wish."

_That is the point. I do not. _"It is not a matter of 'letting you in,' Lady Ashe," Fran murmured, gazing up at the night sky, "It is more a matter of my culture." She said no more, and Ashe knew the conversation was over.

"Do as you wish, then. I will see you come morning." She half-stomped off, like the spoiled princess she once was, and Fran was alone yet again.

There were only a few hours until dawn. She was sure that everyone would be ornery come morning; it seemed as though sleep was elusive to the entire group tonight. Fran didn't mind in the slightest. While the others slept in, she would wander around Rabanastre, taking in the many sights and sounds the city had to offer. She would be content to look, but not touch. It was as good as she would get, anyway.

And, come morning, she would not mention Balthier and Vaan's escapades, nor would she accuse Penelo of slipping into bed with a man much older than she. She would avoid the Lady Ashe all day if she could, and watch over the group, a silent sentinel. Because in the end, that was all she could do. Fran watched as the lives of five people flashed before her eyes like a picture show, the images and moments in time flashing by too fast for her to distinguish one from another.

They had their whole lives left to live. Balthier had Vaan to keep him happy and satisfied. Captain Basch had his Penelo to love and to care for. Ashe would soon be the Queen of Dalmasca, if their mission went as planned. And Fran, well, Fran was just stuck. Stuck in the middle of these Humes' lives, unable to walk away from the bond she'd made to them.

If her sisters saw her now, they would surely laugh at her.

Viera weren't supposed to develop relationships with Humes. They were far too superior for that.

But Fran was special. She was in love with five Humes, for five very different reasons. Even though she would never have a special someone to give her heart to, she figured that she could deal with that kind of loneliness. It wasn't as though she could feel so very strongly for something she'd never had before.

There was one type of loneliness, though, that Fran would not live with.

"I will remain content," she whispered to the sky, "as long as they are at my side. Without them, this life is not worth living."

And Fran closed her eyes as the sun slowly rose, bathing the buildings and the streets below in gorgeous hues of red, yellow, and orange. It was a new day.

Despite everything, Fran smiled.


End file.
